


Welcome to 2016

by LadyCavil



Series: The Holidays [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Fireworks, Gen, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5598865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCavil/pseuds/LadyCavil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow up to "Secret Santa". The New Year's Party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to 2016

                Everywhere he turns there are standard black and white New Year’s party decorations (with accents of gold and blue), but Ninon has managed to make them all look wonderful and somehow splendidly original in their styling and placement. Athos refrains from finding Ninon every thirty seconds to tell her yet again how fantastic she’s made her family’s country house look, how alive the old manor feels thanks to her efforts. He likes the way she blushes slightly and her eyes twinkle in response to the praise, but he does have _some_ pride thus his exercise in self-control. Truth be told he’s just trying to play it cool at this point; after the fourth compliment she’d pulled him close and expressed her intent to kiss him at midnight. Needless to say, he checks his watch with increasing regularity. It’s only 9:47 pm.

                In the vast sitting room not far from where Athos wanders aimlessly, Ylvis’s “The Fox” blares from the speaker system, and Aramis’s eyes search d’Artagnan out with an intensity on the level of a hawk hunting dinner. In milliseconds he’s located the young man and stalks toward him, all the way growling, “I _told_ you not to touch my iPod.”

                Before he crosses half the distance, de Winter and Rochefort grab the intern, and Aramis can only assume they’re headed for one of the many closets in the house. Giggling like water bubbling in a fountain sounds beside Aramis; there Constance stands looking radiant as ever and thoroughly pleased with the turn of events.

                “Mind if I change the song?”

                “Be my guest,” he replies and smiles after her as she heads over to the sound system.

                “Ask her out already.” Porthos materializes in the space vacated by Constance, and Aramis raises his eyebrows at the comment. “Ever since the Christmas party you two have been rather friendly.” When Aramis fails to respond, Porthos bumps his shoulder with his own. “You know if you two got together you wouldn’t have to worry about dodging Marguerite and d’Artagnan all the time.”

                Of course at that moment Constance settles on a song, “Best Day of My Life” by American Authors.

                “It’s a sign,” Porthos whispers with conspiratorial note in his voice.

                “Oh shut up and find Samara.” Aramis pushes in the direction of his friend’s crush and turns his attention back to Constance slipping through the heaving mass of bodies toward him. Athos, however, gets to Aramis first.

                “If you’re going to make a move, wait until midnight.”

                “Why?” Aramis inquires with the minimal mouth movement of a ventriloquist. “Are you and Porthos betting on this?”

                “It started out with more, but now it’s down to Porthos and I. If you mess this up, you’ll owe me a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine.”

                “Understood.”

                Seconds later Constance finally made it back. “Tell me, Athos, how many times have you seen “The Force Awakens”?”

                “Twice. Unfortunately, holiday festivities have demand far too much of my attention.”

                “We should go tomorrow; bring in the new year right.”

                Her suggestion draws a smile out of Athos. “I couldn’t agree more.” Athos scans the crowd composed of far more than their coworkers (in fact the majority of Ninon’s social circle has turned up) and fails to find d’Artagnan. “Where’s the intern?”

                “Closet,” Constance says with a nonchalance that gives balance to the scowl Aramis is sporting.

                “He touched my iPod.”

                Athos silently ‘ah’s, knowing that d’Artagnan’s closet sentence is far kinder than the vengeance Aramis typically deals to those stupid enough to interfere with his carefully constructed playlists. “You may want to disappear,” Athos murmurs. “Marguerite’s on your 7.”

                “Let’s explore the house,” Constance suggests, taking Aramis’s hand and leading him away in the opposite direction.

                “Athos,” Ninon calls over the music. “Can you check on Tréville and Richelieu out back?” He nods and heads for the front door because the house is far too crowded to try getting out one of the back doors.

                It’s a short walk to where Tréville and Richelieu are reclining in lawn chairs, idly jabbing the fire now and then. The fresh air is refreshing after loitering inside for so long, and there’s a crispness filling the atmosphere bringing hope that maybe, just maybe the weather will behave in a fashion more becoming the winter season.

                “Evening, gentlemen,” he greets as he steps into the firelight. “Ninon sent me to check on you.”

                “The old man keeps falling asleep, but other than that we’re fine here, thanks.” Tréville nods at Richelieu whose head bobs up and down until he comprehends Tréville’s words.

                “I am not an old man.”

                Athos’s mind fills with every childish comeback he’s heard and used through the years, ranging from “I know you are, but what am I?” to “I’m rubber; you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you”, when Tréville and Richelieu begin squabbling like adolescents. Shaking his head in amusement, he shoots Ninon a text informing her of the firework duo’s preparedness.

                Eventually Richelieu and Tréville decide to engage in actual conversation, and Athos joins in, completely losing track of time until Richelieu checks his watch. “It’s nearly 11:30, Athos. You should head back inside.”

                Athos strides back to the house, and once inside he seeks out Porthos who has his attention split between trying to flirt with Samara and keeping an eye on Aramis and Constance to see if he’s won.

                “You know if you miss an opportunity with Samara because you’re stalking your best friend, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

                Porthos jumps at Athos’ sudden proximity and mutters a few unkind remarks about sneaking up on people.

                “I take it they’re still single,” Athos assumes with an air of smugness that Porthos frowns at.

                “Ain’t midnight yet.”

                “True.” Still Athos can’t keep a sly grin from crawling across his features. Should he lose the bet, he’s at least been able to watch Aramis attempt to wait until midnight to make a move. It’s quite clear from the bits of the playlist he’s been around to hear and the way Aramis and Constance are locked in animated conversation on the window seat that Aramis entered the party intent on leaving his single status with the old year. Even now with “Can’t Feel My Face” playing throughout the house, Aramis is obviously holding back.

                “What time is it?” Porthos asks when Aramis’s hand twitches toward Constance’s.

                “11:54.”

                “Damn. Hurry up, Aramis. When has he ever taken this much time with women?”

                “Given that at least half the office will inflict great pain upon him if he hurts her, is it such a bad thing?”

                “Could I have everyone’s attention please?” Like moths to a flame, every head swiveled in the direction of Ninon’s voice to find the woman standing on a chair in order to be seen. “As you know the year is nearly over.” Here she pauses while a few of the more inebriated guests shout their approval of the year’s end. “There will be fireworks at midnight, so I encourage you to head outside now if you wish to watch.”

                “Who’s setting them off?” One person yells, and when they find out Tréville and Richelieu are in charge of this year’s display, there is significantly greater interest in the fireworks. In years past when others have attempted to organize the display, the shows have been disappointing from weak beginning to unexciting finale. It seems only two people are truly capable of shooting off fireworks: Tréville and Richelieu. Thus an exodus ensues, and the countdown to midnight draws ever nearer.

                One minute and six seconds to the new year, Owl City’s “Verge” fills the air, and once glance at Aramis tells Athos that whatever his friend has planned is going well thus far.

                “It’s probably corny, but I couldn’t resist,” he grins, leaving Athos to consider whether or not the song choice was ridiculous or not. Yet with every passing second the hairs on his arms and neck rise due to the songs timing and in anticipation of the fireworks to come. Corny or not, it’s well done.

                Ninon slides next to Athos just as the crowd chants the countdown.

                “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. _One!_ ”

                The instant the beat drops, fireworks go off in every possible way. Ninon captures Athos’s lips in a kiss far too energetic to be a simple New Year’s kiss while bright colors fill the clear, night sky. No more than a foot away Porthos has managed to get a kiss from Samara, and when most of the others break up, Aramis and Constance have yet to come up for air. Despite losing the bet, Porthos laughs at the two who are now a couple in all but name. Finally, they pull apart long enough for Aramis to say something in her ear to which Constance enthusiastically nods before pulling him back in for another kiss.

                “Get a room,” Porthos yells through cupped hands, and Athos smacks his arm for suggesting such a thing.

                “Don’t encourage him.”

                “Happy New Year,” Ninon says, leaning against Athos’s side.

                “Happy New Year, Ninon,” he hums back and presses a light kiss to her fair hair. 2016, it would seem, is a year full of promise and brimming with thrilling adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR! XD


End file.
